


The State That I'm In

by jouissant



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon-Typical Violence, First Time, Implied Mpreg, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-08 17:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17390414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jouissant/pseuds/jouissant
Summary: Every night, come hell or high water, Dick Winters got down on his knees and thanked God for three things: his family’s continued good health, his own increasingly miraculous ability to make it through another day, and his stash of heat suppressants.





	The State That I'm In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muccamukk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/gifts).



> From my id to yours: happy holidays!
> 
> Note: contains a very brief mention of premature birth/infant death involving a background character.

Every night, come hell or high water, Dick Winters got down on his knees and thanked God for three things: his family’s continued good health, his own increasingly miraculous ability to make it through another day, and his stash of heat suppressants. 

Ever since he was a boy, his parents had impressed upon him the necessity of being the best possible version of himself, that in this way he would honor himself and his family, and thus he would honor God. This was easy when he was young: he obeyed his mother and father and helped at home, did well in school and at his chores, was kind to the elderly and to animals. But as with life in general, when he grew older and understood what he was and what it was supposed to mean things grew more complicated. 

He had a clear memory of the first time he saw a heat-struck omega; the girl had thrown herself down in the middle of the street and was screaming and ripping at her dress, and he recalled his eyes widening at the flash of skin he saw before his mother hurried him away. 

“What was that?” Dick asked her when they got home, and she tutted and said the girl had been stupid, let things get too far out of hand. “You’ll understand when you’re older,” she said, and told him to go wash up for supper. 

But Dick had already decided he didn’t want to understand. He knew God didn’t hold much with the whims of individual boys, and that God had made him an omega just the way he’d made Dick’s baby sister an alpha, and he knew God didn’t make mistakes. Only—he was growing increasingly certain he simply wasn’t cut out for it, and so when he went to bed that night and knelt to pray as usual he found himself asking God, if He could manage it, to spare him from suffering this particular indignity. He would do anything else, he bargained. Anything at all. 

As the years passed and Dick’s first heat failed to materialize his parents were at first nonplussed and then slightly concerned and then outright worried, and they took him to a kindly doctor who listened to Dick’s lungs and to the steady beat of his heart and told them not to trouble themselves, that to everything there was a season and a time to every purpose et cetera. He winked at Dick on his way out of the exam room. Dick hadn’t thought about his prayers in years, but now he was breathless with certainty that the bargain had been accepted. 

He graduated high school without a single heat. In college the first suppressants came on the market, and Dick took the bitter tablets every morning with water and an accompanying wash of relief. It wasn’t that he lacked faith, it was just that he appreciated the extra insurance. And he was reassured, perhaps, that if God had seen fit to create those pills then maybe He and Dick weren’t so out of step after all. 

***

He hit the ground in Normandy and fumbled for his weapon. Gone. Next, his leg bag, and if he cursed he would have done so then but he didn’t so he smacked the ground. Even then he wasn’t thinking about anything but the missing ammunition; it was only much later, bruised and dirty and trying to sleep, that he thought about the suppressants he’d stashed in the leg bag when he’d packed it back at the airfield what seemed like a century ago now. He’d tucked them in a little moleskin pouch, shoved them down to the bottom. 

_Can’t say there’ll be enough to last the war,_ the doctor said, _but then again who can._ Wink. _When you get to the physical stand with your legs pressed tight together,_ he told Dick. _They’ll glance at you, if that._

It was true. Dick had gone into his Army physical at peak fitness, and the surgeon who’d conducted the exam paid more attention to his muscles than anything else. Dick remembered exactly how he felt when the alpha surgeon looked up at him and scribbled something on his clipboard. He felt completely invisible.

The surgeon mumbled something Dick couldn’t make out. “Sorry, sir?”

“Pass,” the surgeon said. “Now get out of here. You’re holding up my line.” 

To his surprise, the invisibility lasted. Male alphas pairing off wasn’t unheard of, but it was worthy of the sort of razzing one didn’t much want to invite. It was also punishable as fraternizing, and Dick capitalized on the men’s determination not to risk discipline or gain a reputation for wandering eyes. He woke early to shower alone, faced the wall to dress. When he had a pass he went into town to the druggist and made the omega woman behind the counter exclaim at how modern he was. 

When Dick realized about the suppressants he didn’t even have the energy to be upset. Maybe he was distracted. Or maybe, childishly, Dick still believed in the bargain. He sat up in the back of the truck where he and Nix had settled to try and grab a couple of hours of shut-eye. Nix was asleep, curled away on his side, and not for the first time Dick thought, wildly, of waking him and telling him everything, of asking him what to do. He wondered what Nix would say if he knew he wasn’t the only one who’d have to scrounge now they were at war in earnest.

They pushed deeper into France. One day there was a commotion in a bombed-out house and Dick found Doc Roe kneeling beside a civilian omega who clutched his swollen belly and cried on the stained floor. Roe murmured in French and stood, looking troubled. 

“What is it?” Dick asked. He could barely look at the man, could feel it in his teeth, how easily this could be him. 

“He says it’s too soon.” 

The baby was red, the size of a kitten. Roe handed it up between the omega’s legs, and he held it against his chest and shook and Dick turned away. They wrapped the little body in a blanket and Roe rummaged in his bag and gave the hovering alpha a packet.

“For after,” he said. And, “my condolences.” 

Suppressants. On the way back to HQ he couldn’t help but ask about them, pressing the issue like you’d press on a bruise. 

“Hell to be an omega in a place like this,” Dick said. 

“Hell to be anyone, sir.” 

“Those suppressants—” 

“They go in the aid packages. For civilian distribution, sir. But if you’ve got a need for them, I can probably spare a couple.” Roe looked at him sidelong, probably imagining Dick had an omega of his own stashed somewhere. The thought made him want to laugh. He hadn’t anticipated how it would feel to have a secret like this. It felt like carrying something around in your mouth all the time, like a tasteless cud that could slip through your lips without warning: that Easy had come through Toccoa, through Fort Benning, through Aldbourne and D-Day and Market Garden under a man who was 1B at best and 4F at worst in the eyes of the Army, depending on who you asked.

It was tempting to think of taking the packets. Roe wouldn’t ask questions. But Dick thought again of his bargain, and of the fact that he’d made a choice to come here, and another choice to trust in that damnable leg bag, and neither of those were choices that had been afforded the omega they’d left still hunched on the wreck of his floor, singing a useless lullaby. 

***

He thought, at first, that he was coming down with something. He was chilled, then too warm. His joints ached, and he’d have done anything for a bath. The weather in Mourmelon was raw, and Dick sat at his desk and tried to think about the last time he’d seen the sun. In the mess he was snappish with Nix, who eyed him curiously. 

“What’s eating you?” 

“Nothing,” Dick said. “Going stir crazy, I guess.” 

“You’re like a hound. Someone needs to take you out and run you.” Nix caught Dick’s expression and burst into laughter. “God, not like that! But you’re right. You do start to fester.” Her leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed. “If I could get you leave, would you take it?” 

“There’s too much to do here.” 

“You just got through telling me there wasn’t enough to do.” 

“I didn’t say that. Implied, maybe.” 

Dick sighed and dropped his spoon into a half-eaten bowl of mush. The clatter of metal on ceramic sent a ray of pain glancing through his head. His tongue felt gluey, stuck to the roof of his mouth. And that was another thing—food didn’t taste right to him, not that what passed for breakfast here was any sterling example. 

“Maybe I’m coming down with something,” he said. 

Nix’s brow furrowed. “Half battalion staff had a head cold last week,” he offered. 

“That must be it.” 

“Well, get your beauty rest. But just so you know, I’m going to keep working on that leave.” 

“Yeah,” Dick said absently. “Thanks, Lew.” 

He left the mess feeling worse than when he’d started, which was odd when talking to Nix improved his mood nine times out of ten. The head cold was something, though. Maybe he already knew then, the way he was so quick to seize on an acceptable reason. At any rate by the end of the day he would be sure of what it was, and it wasn’t a head cold, and he’d have made a bargain with any god who asked to be something so benign as stir crazy. 

***

Nix burst into Dick’s billet the way he always did, as though it was his God-given right to be wherever Dick was at all times, as though drawn to him like a magnet. 

Dick wondered if he had ever noticed that before, really, and if he had why hadn’t he noticed how absolutely maddening it was that Nix should simply flaunt himself in front of him this way, shirt hastily buttoned, pale neck shaded with stubble? And the smell of him, which was sweaty and sour, all alpha, albeit one in dire need of a shower? It was offensive to Dick. Dick would not stand for it. Dick was prostrate on the bed and did not have a choice. 

He was curled up on his cot, burning and chilled by turns. There was a throb in his pelvis and a liquid feeling between his thighs. He wanted badly to touch himself, had resisted until the very moment Nix had walked into the room. Which just went to show that any luck Dick ever had had run out, any possibility of getting out of this undetected.

“What on earth are you doing?” 

Dick jerked his hand out of his pants and made the C of his body tighter. “Leave me alone, Nix.” 

“Something’s…wrong with you,” Nix said.

“I told you. I’m sick. Caught the battalion head cold.” 

Nix had slowed down. Dick could no longer see his face, but was aware he was stalking around the foot of the bed. Dick had begun to feel like an animal, as though he was curled up in some den instead of trying to hide out in his billet in the middle of a war, and there was something about the way Nix moved now that matched that feeling. Time seemed to stretch. He could still smell Nix. He heard the creak of his footsteps on the floor, the sound amplified somehow in a way that made Dick want to cringe. He heard Nix’s breathing. Heard it catch. 

Nix took a long, deep sniff of the air. 

“Dick,” he said, and from the tone of his voice Dick knew that Nix had found him out. 

“Leave me alone,” Dick said again. 

“No,” Nix said. "What the hell--" He stepped closer. He leaned over the cot so that his shadow fell over Dick’s face. Dick shut his eyes. A long pause, the air between them alive with tension, and then Nix reached across it to hook his finger into the collar of Dick’s undershirt. 

“Let me see,” he said. 

His voice seemed to deepen, to gain an authority Dick had never heard before, for even talking strategy in a roomful of officers Nix tended towards self deprecation. He tugged on Dick’s collar and Dick followed the movement, rolling over on to his back. He wore only the undershirt and his PT shorts. He’d nearly soaked the shirt through and had done the same for the shorts, though he’d fancied this less obvious given their dark color. Nix kept his hand at Dick’s throat and set the other lightly on one of his knees. 

He must have a thousand questions; Dick imagined he could feel them running in a current down Nix’s arm, thrumming into his own body, but mercifully they remained unasked for now. Instead Nix simply sighed, and rather than sound disappointed he sounded satisfied, as though he had been presented with a problem he knew the answer to. 

“You need some help,” Nix said. 

If he had asked the question, or interrogated Dick about being an omega, there was a good chance Dick could have somehow scraped up the wherewithal to say no. Nix’s statement, however, managed to worm its way into Dick’s fevered brain where it spread and cooled and tantalized. Nix ran his hand down the inside of Dick’s thigh until he met his shorts. Dick stiffened and tried to clap his legs shut, but Nix tutted at him and ground the heel of his hand against Dick’s body. Dick cried out, both for the pleasure of it and for the knowledge that Nix was feeling him like this, was seeing him like this. 

But Nix was right—he did need help. He couldn’t think; it was as if there was a wad of cotton filling his skull, rendering him unable to focus on anything but how he felt. There was an alpha here with him. And just as Dick had always feared, nothing else mattered. 

He drew a long, stuttering breath.“Please.” 

Nix’s eyes widened. “How long has it been?” 

Possibly he’d been expecting more of an argument. Dick felt himself flush. Not only was he making a complete spectacle of himself, he was easy besides. “Not—not too long.” 

“Liar,” Nix said, not unkindly. He sighed himself, dropped into a squat between Dick’s bed and the wall. “What are we going to do with you? So goddamn stoic you’d have boiled yourself down to nothing in here, all by yourself.” 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize. But you’ve got to be straight with me a minute, all right? I can leave you here if you want me to. I’ll cover for you—god knows you’ve done it for me enough times.” 

“I never minded.” Dick was shivering harder now, but he tried to smile at Nix. From the look on his face, he wasn’t certain he’d entirely succeeded. 

“Good of you,” Nix said, his voice tight. “Dick, do you want me to go?” 

Dick shut his eyes. Part of him badly wanted to say yes, to send Nix away and simply knuckle through whatever came next. He would emerge from it eventually, he knew. But how long it would it take? How deep would he sink in the meantime? Perhaps in the throes of heat he would lose all judgement, leave his room and fling himself at the first alpha to cross his path. Even if he made Nix lock the door behind him, throw away the key, would he thrash and scream at it? Would he try and break it down while half the company listened on the other side? 

“No,” he said at last, through clenched teeth. And God help him, it was true. He didn’t want to be alone. 

Nix smiled at him. Their faces were so close. Dick had been in all sorts of situations with Nix, had been close to him in a thousand different ways, but never like this, never laid so bare. HIs smile was so warm, so genuine that Dick thought he might break apart. Nix laid the back of his hand to Dick’s forehead and made a concerned noise, which deepened when Dick moaned at his touch. 

“God, you’re burning up. Let’s get these off, huh?” 

There was no seduction in the way Nix undressed him. Dick was glad of that. Nix moved him like a rag doll, sitting him up and yanking the t-shirt off over Dick’s head, easing his PT shorts down carefully and without looking, as though the heaviness there between Dick’s legs wasn’t the elephant in the room. 

Nudity was both agonizing and more comfortable. Nix’s hands hovered over him like birds that couldn’t choose a branch on which to alight. “What should I—what do you like?” 

“I don’t know,” Dick said. “I’ve never—” He shook his head, looked away. Nix’s face had fallen, the warm look from a moment ago replaced with something like frank fear.

“You’re kidding,” he said. 

“I never let it happen before. I took tablets since I was a kid.” 

Nix screwed his face up. “Goddammit.” 

“I’m sorry,” Dick said again, which only made Nix curse louder. 

“All right,” he said as if to himself. “All right. We’ll…we’ll play it by ear then.” He leaned down and kissed Dick quickly on the cheek, the motion so brief and foreign that Dick was unsure whether or not it had actually happened. “I’ll take care of you,” Nix said thickly. “It’ll be okay.” 

With a sound like muffled sob, Dick let his legs fall apart. 

As a young man Dick had counted himself too busy to spend time worrying about sex. At college he’d been acquainted with a few fellow omegas and he disliked the fuss they made over their first time, over whether or not they’d made the alpha wear a rubber (recommended to ward off VD but not strictly necessary outside of heat) or whether or not so-and-so was cutting it too close to heat go to bed with what’s-her-name when she visited her over homecoming weekend. 

The first time Nix touched him he thought, with crystal clarity: What a damned idiot. What came out of his mouth was not words, or not intelligible ones, anyway. They seemed to amuse Nix, though, which was probably a decent distraction from the embarrassing way Dick was shaking. 

Nix knew how to touch him, how to pull on Dick’s cock and watch his face to see if he liked it, or if, as with some omegas, it was simply vestigial. He put a finger inside of him, and then another. He moved them carefully, like he was performing a series of tests. He kept his voice level, almost professional, but Dick watched his face and saw an expression that he’d last seen when they were stateside and Nix had got ahold of some particularly fine whiskey. 

“That all right?” Nix asked him. It was. Dick needed more. When he asked for it Nix looked both honored and pained in the space of ten seconds. “You’ve really never?” 

Dick shook his head. 

“Christ. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“You won’t.” 

“I might,” Nix said. “Dammit. It’s not supposed to be like this, you know? You’re supposed to have your pick of alphas, not get screwed by some miscreant Army captain in a drafty billet just because that’s who happens to be there.” 

A chill went through Dick, setting his teeth chattering. “Nix, please.” 

“All right. But I don’t like it. Hear me?” 

Sometimes omegas were past hearing, were past reason altogether. Dick was only far enough gone that letting Nix take him to bed seemed like the best idea he’d ever had, miscreant Army captain or not. “Please,” he said again. 

As he undressed Nix kept up a grumbling sort of litany as though determined to register his disapproval even as he complied. He only stopped when he was laid out on top of Dick, his cock pressed against Dick’s belly. He was larger than Dick by half, and Dick was surprised at the pure desire that shot through him to look at Nix now. 

“Hi,” Nix said. Again he asked if Dick was okay. 

“I think so.” Dick sighed, and buried his face in Lew’s neck. He felt inexplicably tender. He’d never had a drink but he imagined this was how it felt, warm and loose like this. “You're my best friend,” he said. 

Lew laughed. “You're out of your mind.” 

“A little bit.” 

Nix kissed him on the forehead. The intimacy was strange, but Dick found he liked it. It made him shiver again, with pleasure this time. “Well, I guess you’re mine,” Nix said. 

“Lew,” said Dick. “I want you.” 

Now that they were bumping up against the thing Nix seemed suddenly stymied. He frowned, rubbed his cock against Dick’s body. “Only if you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure.” 

“Would you kiss me? Really kiss me?” Nix asked, as though that was some sort of proving ground. 

But sure, Dick would kiss him. Deeply, mouths open. Dick had never thought of kissing anyone this way, let alone Nix. It felt startlingly right. He let Nix guide him back against the lumpy mattress and kneel between his legs. He look himself in hand and looked as though he was going to ask again if Dick was sure, and Dick thought that if he did Dick would probably kill him. 

“Lew,” he said. 

“Jesus Christ,” Nix said. “Okay, okay.” 

It hurt a little—Nix was big, and Dick was very wet, but even so. Dick was determined not to let on, and bit the inside of his cheek to keep from crying out. Nix stayed still and let Dick writhe against him, his movements experimental at first but gaining boldness with every small movement. When Nix slid home at last it felt far too easy, Nix wrapping himself around Dick so they were flush together. But even as close as they were, even after the tender words they’d exchanged, Dick felt as though he was trespassing. Maybe it would be different if they were a pair, if Nix belonged to him. They said alphas could catch a heat from their omegas; Nix would have known Dick’s was starting from the very first shift in his scent. Maybe they’d have curled up together like cats and let desire build until it overtook them like a wave. Dick had heard once that mated pairs were so close they went over the edge together, the alpha catching their omega’s heat like the flu. At once he remembered: Nix was mated, had a perfectly good omega waiting for him back home, one he’d probably helped through countless heats just like this, an omega with whom he had even conceived a child. 

The thought made him feel as though he’d choke. He tensed, tried to pull away, and it must have hurt Nix because he exclaimed sharply, something in him shifting. He took both Dick’s hands by the wrists, held his fingers up to his mouth. Dick looked up at him, incapable of speech as Nix sucked on one finger and then another, laving them individually with his tongue By the time he’d finished Dick’s face was flaming anew, and Nix yanked Dick’s arms up over his head and held them there pinned to the pillow, flattening Dick against the bed in the same arc of motion with which he slid one hand underneath him, getting hold of Dick’s left hip. 

He thrust into him in earnest, Dick unable to do anything but give himself over to it. His orgasm surprised him, ripped through him with more suddenness that he’d expected, so quickly that at first he wasn’t certain what had happened. He found himself gripping Nix tightly, one hand, on the curve of his ass. In his right mind Dick would have been mortified, but now he could only let Nix guide him through it, rocking into him and mumbling encouragements which came faster and faster, rose to a crescendo and cracked, Nix collapsing atop him, sweaty and gasping. And then fullness, a terrible stretch: Nix groaned an apology, and Dick reached instinctively for the place their bodies came together. 

“Is this—” 

“You’ve gotta relax,” Nix said. “You try and pull away, it’ll be bad for both of us.” Nix rolled them carefully onto their sides so they lay face to face, too close by far for Dick’s liking, for all he seemed to be able to think of now was Nix’s life before. Before the war, before Dick. Before Dick had had the bright idea to forge ahead secrets and all, and managed to screw everything up. 

“How long does it last?” 

“What, this? The knot?” Nix rolled his hips, sucking in a breath, making Dick moan softly. “I don’t know, a half hour? It’ll be over soon.”

That wasn’t what I meant, he wanted to say, but instead he nodded and asked Nix, “Do you like it?” 

Nix considered. “I do,” he said. “It always feels like what’s supposed to happen.”  
Always. A prick of jealousy at that too. Ridiculous, the way Dick felt as though this had never happened to anyone before and never would hence. 

Nix looked at him thoughtfully. Dick caught his eye. “What?” 

“We should’ve used a rubber. What’re you going to do if you get into trouble?” 

Dick looked away. He’d thought about it, in the anxious, abstract haze in which he cast all his worst case scenarios. “I’ll turn myself in,” he said. 

Nix’s eyes went wide. “They’d court-martial you. For lying on your enlistment forms.” 

“I’d deserve it,” Dick said. “They think omegas shouldn’t be here, that we’re too much to manage--” 

“But that’s bullshit.” 

“Is it? You want to know how this happened? I lost my suppressants on D-Day. Had ‘em in that stupid leg bag.” 

Nix was quiet a moment. Then he started to laugh. He laughed until they were both breathing a little heavily, his laughter jostling their joined bodies. “It isn’t funny,” Dick said, though he was half smiling himself. “Look at me--I’m proving their point right now. And anyway, this is no place for a baby.” 

“Well, if it happens--I don’t think it will, but if it happens you’ll be taken care of. Both of you.” 

Dick ducked his head. “That’s good of you, but I wouldn’t ask for anything.” 

Nix rolled his eyes. “Trust you to assume I’d let you go on your merry way. It ever occur to you to think it wouldn’t be entirely unwelcome?” 

Dick blinked at him. “What?” 

Nix shrugged, and ran his hand up Dick’s arm. “You’re--hell, you’re _you_. You’re telling me you can’t see why an alpha would want a guy like you?” 

“You didn’t know I was a guy like me before today,” Dick said waspishly, somehow determined to argue the point.  

“Maybe I wouldn’t have cared,” Nix said. “Maybe--” He shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I’m talking about.” 

“Mmm,” Dick said. “I thought I was supposed to be the one out of my head.” 

Nix laughed again. “You ought to know by now this is my natural state.” 

“Yeah,” said Dick, “And I guess now you know this is mine.” 

They were quiet after that; the moment felt, if not somber, then heavier somehow, imbued with a kind of emotional humidity. The sweetness of the air, the light beginning to eke around the curtains Dick had drawn in the bedroom earlier. He wondered idly what time it was. They must have been missed; it was a wonder a runner hadn’t been by. He said as much to Nix, who slipped out of him directly afterwards, as though the thought of interruption had been enough to soften him. Dick was beginning to be drowsy. He knew enough of heats to know they ebbed and flowed, that he’d probably beg Nix to take him again before this was through. For now all he could think of was sleep. 

Nix disentangled himself from Dick and slid from the bed, casting about for his clothes. “You should eat,” he said. “I’ll go try and scare something up, make an appearance. If you’ve got any bright ideas about where you’ve been and why you can’t leave your billet, I’m all ears.” 

“Told you before. I’ve got a head cold,” Dick said. 

“You wouldn’t go AWOL for a cold.” 

“I’ve got a bad cold.”

“You’re useless,” Nix said. He drew the quilt over Dick’s shoulders. “I’ll think of something. You ought to sleep.”

“Will you come back?” 

“Sure I will.” 

Dick had only a minute or so to examine why exactly his own voice had sounded so plaintive before he was overcome by a wave of fatigue like a heavy blanket. He was asleep before Nix left the room, and so didn’t see him hang in the doorway for a very long time, looking back at Dick in the bed like a man cast out from somewhere. 

***

In retrospect it had all been incredibly fortuitous. That they’d been in Mourmelon, as close to leave as you got in wartime France. When the orders came down about Bastogne Dick was fresh off a transport from Paris, where he’d gone on very strict instructions from Nix to take the pass, goddamn it, and to visit a _pharmacie_ Nix happened to know and buy them out of Red Cross heat suppressants. 

Nix had looked at him once, a question in his eyes, and Dick shook his head. _We’re all right,_ he meant to say. _Dodged a bullet._ If his smile was a little forced, and if Nix looked a little tight around the eyes, neither of them let on. Nix stepped close to Dick then, and touched him briefly on the shoulder, and it might have been just a touch, two alpha captains making rounds on each other. 

Or it might have been another question: Afterwards? 

And in the ensuing jostle, a covert brush of hands together and an answer, mutable as fate, as war: Ask me.


End file.
